


fall in line

by Anonymous



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Diapers, F/M, Mommy Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 19:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12539296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sofia’s ability to adapt and thrive has always been one of her strong suits.Taking on this new role for Oswald is no different.





	fall in line

Sofia’s ability to adapt and thrive has always been one of her strong suits.

Taking on this new role for Oswald is no different.

Most days, she enjoys being his Mommy and the all the responsibilities and joys that come with it.  There’s something darling in the way his eyes light up when he sees her when he wakes up from his nap, clinging around his stuffed penguin (the one she let him pick out when he was a very good boy for her.  The pleasant serenity that comes as she looks over paperwork while Oswald is in his black and white footie pajamas on the floor, scribbling in a coloring book while sucking on a pacifier in slow, hypnotic beats.  Their diaper changing routine has a special place in her heart, a quiet intimacy that surprised even her with how much she looks forward to it - early mornings, Oswald wriggling in his wet diaper as she kisses her stomach to get him to settle down, the soft crinkle and crease of the fresh diaper as it hugs around his lovingly powdered skin, and (her favorite) how afterward, she leans down and presses her forehead to his, noses brushing, as they close their eyes and breathe each other in.

Those are her favorite memories, the ones she will remember when this is all over.

Her least favorite, she thinks, will be times like these.

Oswald glaring at her, sweet face crunched into a stubborn horror, when Sofia says she has to spank him.

“No,” he grumbles, voice containing all the terror of a resistant little two year old who isn’t getting his way.  Oswald is ruthless as King of Gotham, and when he’s in his baby subspace, his petulance can become all the more unruly, his penchant for pulling the trigger on poor schmucks replaced by grumpy stomps of his feet and cacophony of whining.

But that’s okay.  Sofia is a patient Mommy.

“You broke Mommy’s things, baby, now come here.  Mommy has to give you your spanking,” Sofia insists.

She hates it, she truly does, especially when she reaches for Oswald to encourage him forward and his low babbling turns into a shrill whine, making her ears ache.  She shushes him quietly, helps maneuver him until he’s spread across her lap, all upset, dead weight.  Even from here, she can see the tears plunking to the floor, drop by drop.  But for all she hates putting her baby through this, she is nothing if not the image of a stern, determined mother ready to teach her disobedient son a lesson.  Tucking her fingers into the edges of his diaper, she drags the puffy, white fabric down to his knees, exposing his soft, luscious ass to the room’s cold air.

Oswald whimpers, and god help Sofia, watching him shuffle on her lap, bare ass wiggling as if to hide from the impending spanking, stirs something in her.

_ Your father always said you’d be a good mother. _

The first slap comes without warning.  Oswald squawks, head bowing as he takes a sharp breath.  She allows him a moment to hold it before she lands another open-palmed smack to his right cheek, the sharp sting of contact filling the air.  Sofia falls into a rhythm after that, moving from one cheek to the next, until Oswald is crying in earnest, whole body shaking as she paints his ass red with each calculated slap of her bare hand.

“Good boy.  This is for your own good,” she reminds him gently, giving him another deep slap and smiling in sympathy when he howls and shakes.

She gives him a few more, watches the way his red flesh jiggles underneath her powerful, guiding hand.  With Sofia’s free hand on his back and legs trapped between his diaper, Oswald has no choice but to take each stroke as they land, left vulnerable by her motherly power.  Neither of them like this, she knows, but even this too serves its purpose: he’ll be better for it, will remember  _ not  _ to touch (and subsequently break) her expensive perfumes next time.

When she lands the last stroke, she admires the shades of red blooming on his skin, strokes each aching cheek in apology.  “Okay, baby, all done.”

Sofia is gentle when she moves Oswald upright, careful to steady him as she pulls up his diaper to cover his abused ass.  His cock’s half-hard and quickly softening; Sofia knows that, even while there is a part of Oswald that enjoys corporal punishment, the shame of disappointing her outweighs any desire he may feel.  Oswald’s hands are balled into chubby fists, fat dollops of tears dribbling down his face as Sofia brings him forward until he’s sitting in her lap, facing her.  Oswald is always a pretty man, but Sofia has a fondness for when he cries: those glass-clear eyes red around the edges, the way he heaves his breaths, the way he simply can’t stop himself from sobbing like the baby he’s playing to be (the one, Sofia thinks, he still yearns to be inside).  Manicured nails gently trace over the burning red of his ass, soothing over the dark outline of her handprints that cover each cheek as she tucks his head into the crook of her neck, giving him that soft skin-to-skin contact he needs to feel safe.

“It’s alright, baby.  You took it so well,” she says, voice flowing with warmth and sugar.  

Oswald sniffs, whimpers in that way he does when he’s anticipating punishment.  She rubs his back, presses a soft kiss to his hair, and curses the men and women who made him fear the lift of a hand.

“Mommy hates spanking your bottom, but she had to, and you were so good during it,” she reassures. “She doesn’t like seeing you hurt.”

Oswald shakes at the praise, babbles something unintelligent against her neck, now warm and damp from his breath and tears.  He quiets a little, the sobs fading to little sniffles that has her smiling, pride glowing in her chest at how strong her big boy is being for her.

(All for her.  This is all for her.  She’ll never get tired of it, will never not get drunk on the King of Gotham being a fussy little toddler only for her.)

She wants to bounce him in her lap in that slow way that calms him, makes him gurgle and giggle when she needs to cheer him up, but she doesn’t want to chafe his raw ass against his diaper and her tight, black skirt.  Instead, she settles for drawing him backward so she can pet his wet cheeks and get those big eyes back on hers.

“There’s my boy.  Let me see a smile now.  Can you smile for Mommy, baby?”

Oswald sniffles again, pouting and giving a despondent shake of his head.  Oh, but Sofia knows all his weak spots.  She smiles really wide, warm and welcoming as a familiar hearth, and tickles up his sides until he can’t help but to smile, eyes twinkling.

“That’s it, there’s that pretty smile.  Mommy still loves you,” she says, and Oswald’s eyes are welling up again, the poor little dear.  Every reminder of love makes Oswald fall apart like this; she will keep telling him until he can’t help but to feel adored, treasured beyond words.

Sofia kisses away the tears that fall, one salty brush of her lips at a time. “Mommy loves you so much.”

The way Oswald clings to her is all the proof she needs that the love is mutual.


End file.
